Crimson and Ice
by Yautjan
Summary: The dancer shook his shoulders desperately. “No! Eliwood! Eliwood!” She clenched her teeth, fear distorting her face. “Please, Eliwood! Wake up! WAKE UP!” EliwoodxNinian ONESHOT


**I just completed Rekka no Ken, after two weeks of owning the game. As a NinianxEliwood shipper, I felt inspired to write a story ;D This is based in Chapter 27 of Eliwood's story on normal mode, when the third wave of Wyvern Knights comes from the southeastern corner. Yeah, I'm all specific. Mostly because it was right before that enemy phase I A-supported Eli and Ninian…**

**Sorry for the crap title. My MOM came up with it. Hey—she was the only person online when I went to bounce this story off of one of my friends. It could be worse, though, considering some of the more sarcastic (and extremely perverted) titles she suggested…I love her XD**

**I ramble a lot.**

**-**

The sword fell harsh across the myrmidon's back, severing the spine and sending a spray of blood across the stained grass. The Fang screeched and fell, paralyzed from his shoulders down, crimson staining his robes as the life drained out from his lean form.

His killer stepped over the body, biting back that remorse that rose like bile to his throat every time he took his blade to flesh. This was war, but it was murder; the slaughter of thousands of men and woman who fought for their allegiances and stood in the way of his advances. The darker parts of his heart told him that his quest was superior than a platoon or twenty of soldiers, that it mattered more to the well-being of Elibe. But how could you have peace when you killed off enough people to fill a nation?

Those thoughts were quickly suppressed. This was no time for philosophical thinking when these people sought his blood in revenge for the death of the White Wolf. He sheathed the steel weapon in his hand, drawing an iron one instead, pumping his fist around the worn leather-wrapped hilt. It felt so wrong, yet so right, killing and maiming those who dared oppose him.

Not two minutes after he switched weapons an arrow flew, scoring a line on his bruised face. He jumped, startled, ducking aside before a second arrow could embed itself in his side. The archer was easy to spot, drawing a third arrow and raising his bow to attack. The swordsman charged, slashing the archer across the throat at the same time the third arrow pierced the flesh of his skin, finding its way through his shoulder pad.

He hissed, quickly jerking his sword out of the dead Bernite and plucking the arrow from his collarbone, letting a fresh flow of blood pour down his dark blue tunic and onto the ground below. The man reached up, brushing his sweat-drenched red hair from his bright cerulean eyes, his fingers trembling slightly from fatigue.

War was a tiresome subject, he thought, a scowl crossing his bruised, bloodied but still handsome features. _It wastes a person's life away, and if they forget themselves, it can turn even the calmest person into a bloodthirsty killer._

Something else caught his ear: a shrill, feminine scream of fear, one that was all too familiar to the red-head's senses. "Hey!" he shouted, his deep voice cutting across the stretch of plain. The fighter turned to face the man, smirking as his opponent froze. His muscular arm was wrapped around a thin woman, hair the color of ice clinging to her terrified but beautiful face. The Bernite kept his axe at her throat, forcing her to remain still.

"Ahaha, you Lycian scum!" he heckled. "Look what I've got now! This pretty maiden will sell for a good penny, I'm sure!" He pulled the woman closer to his body, grinning maliciously as she screamed his name. "I'll be seein' ya, then!"

He turned to leave, but he only got five steps before the red-head's sword exploded through his chest, splattering blood over all three of them. "Let. Her. Go," he ordered through clenched teeth, twisting the blade slightly in the fighter's lung. He roared and dropped the woman, who scrambled away as fast as she could, her shimmering hair splattered with crimson almost the color of her eyes. "Now DIE."

The fighter turned with the last breaths in his body, swinging his axe weakly. The red-head didn't notice until it was too late, and gasped in shock as the rusted edge slashed a wound across his torso. He jerked his sword out, letting the fighter die on the ground, using his free arm to cover the new wound.

"Lord Eliwood!" He glanced up as the ice-haired girl ran up, fear distorting her porcelain face. She wrung her hands nervously as she examined him, raking that mesmerizing gaze across his bloodied frame. "Lord Eliwood, are you alright?"

"It's just a scratch," he replied with a smile, hiding his wince of pain. He forced his spine to straighten, exhaling sharply as he forced the pain to the back of his thoughts. Seeing her stand there, so worried, but so perfect, the feelings he had suppressed before battle came flowing back in a tidal wave the sick thrill of bloodshed could never bring. "Ninian."

She blinked, unresponsive to her own name for a moment. "…Lord Eliwood?" she asked in her musical voice, filled with grief and concern. Her brow furrowed as she frowned.

Eliwood knew that this battlefield was not the best place to exchange this conversation, but he could not hide from the truth any longer. "I finally caught up with you." His smile faltered. "What's wrong, Ninian? Why the long face?"

Ninian crossed her arms over her chest, huddling into herself, turning her crimson gaze to the ground. "Please, do not worry on my account. I... I am not worthy—I am not even worthy to stand in your sight, Lord Eliwood. I have been deceiving you."

He stepped forward slightly, sheathing his sword. There was no anger on his face, just a soft concern for the dancer's well-being. "Yes, as you were saying before." The Pheraean noble paused before continuing. "Ninian... You have been keeping some secret from us?"

She flinched. "Yes…"

"But...you can't tell me what it is. Am I right?" Eliwood prompted gently.

Ninian's head moved as though to look up, but instead she turned her gaze to the grass to the right of her foot. "…Yes."

"Very well."

The dancer immediately found that fear of looking directly at the swordsman purged from her system, and glanced up, eyes wide with a hope she wouldn't dare trust. "What…?"

Eliwood took another step closer, leaving only a few feet of distance between. "If it is too hard for you to talk about, I will not force you," he said calmly, though his eyes told a different story. They were more full of emotion than any part of his tall, toned body, a caring warmth mixed with longing that could never be buried now. "Just... if you ever feel able, tell me then."

She blinked slowly, her lip quavering slightly as she found her voice to reply. "But... I have been false..." She paused, swallowing, even though her throat felt like sandpaper. "I have lied to you and the others." Tears collected on her eyelashes, trailing down her pale cheeks. Even the drops of water looked like crystals against her face.

There was no denying it any more. Eliwood inhaled deeply, unable to bear seeing the shimmering droplets snaking across the fragile skin, disrupting the true beauty there. "Ninian, I love you," he told her, his tone filled with warm honesty that no man could have faked. "That will not change, no matter what may come."

Ninian's jaw dropped slightly, her slender hands tightening around her bare arms. "Lord Eliwood…" she gasped, barely able to believe her ears. Had he really just…?

The swordsman closed the distance at last, pulling her into his arms, ignoring the sting of his wounds. She didn't even notice the blood that soaked her pale dress. "I don't care what your secret is-- I will still feel the same. If something troubles you, let me sweep it away." He reached up, brushing a tear from her cheek. The droplet evaporated on his finger, but he let his hand linger on her cool skin. "Please, don't cry anymore. I would do anything to see you smile again. You are the first woman I have ever felt this way about, Ninian."

The dancer shook her head, as though in shock. "Lord Eliwood... I... I don't know what-- Lord Eliwood... Lord Eliwood..." She buried her forehead against his chest, soothing the newfound feeling of acceptance…that knowledge he was returning her affection with the steady pounding of his heart against her ear. "I…don't let me go," she begged, reaching up to entwine her fingers in the tattered fabric of his cape.

The graceful flutters of her fingers so close to his skin made his heart skip, but he tried to focus on the field around him. They were still in the middle of a war. Although this area was rather deserted, as most of his companions had gone north to fight the remaining army while he, Ninian and the assassin Jaffar protected the merchant Merlinus, a single enemy spotting this moment of weakness could spell doom for them both. "Ninian…I…I can't keep that specific promise for the moment. " He looked down at her as she turned her head up, filled with reluctant understanding. "We're still in a fight…"

"I know…" She looked down at the wound on his shoulder, slowly dripping blood onto her sleeve. Eliwood gently slid his hand to her chin, tilting it so he could look back at her, with those unique and perfect red eyes. He leaned forward slightly, gently kissing her forehead, savoring the feel of her skin and hair against his own. Once he found the fight, he didn't know how long it would be until he saw her again. Even ten minutes would feel like a millennium.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, still in his arms and her breath soft against the skin of his neck. Without warning, she stood on tiptoe, the flustered feeling of being loved and the desire to remain so burning through her veins, and pressed her lips fully against his.

He froze, startled by the sudden contact, but it wasn't long before he fell into the rhythm of the kiss, his heart pounding against his ribcage and his thoughts finally leaving the battlefield. He ran a hand through her silky hair, his other wrapping around her waist and bringing her closer. A fierce passion flowed like ice and fire in his body, numbing the pain of his injuries.

Eliwood felt her hand move into his own hair, her slender fingers toying with the bright red locks, feeling each and every strand as though it was a precious material, despite the fact it was soaked thoroughly. And as far he was concerned, if she liked it this way, loose and sleek and untamed, then he would keep it such forever.

She tasted sweet, like berries mixed with mint. The two together sounded slightly revolting to him, but she made it taste like heaven's own treat, except a million times better. As the memory of her lips and her flavor implanted itself into his brain, he felt more and more reluctant to pull away, even for air. "I love you," he whispered huskily, parting slightly to get the words in that needed to be said. "I won't let anything happen to you…I promise…"

She simply replied by meeting his mouth again with her own, massaging his neck with her hands, soothing the stress that had built since his father's untimely demise. He didn't want it to end. He wanted her to be next to him for the rest of his life, kissing him and touching her cool palms to his worn skin.

In the heat of the moment, Eliwood did not hear the soft beating of wings until the trio of wyvern riders had descended upon the young couple. "Well, well, what have we here, boys? What an odd time to be snogging, eh?" The Pheraean pulled away from Ninian, regretting the sudden blast of bitter air against his lips as the warmth disappeared. He turned quickly, ushering the dancer behind him, using his broad shoulders as a shield to the lances of the Bernites. "And—wait, look at t'is, boys! It's that bastard that murdered the White Wolf!"

He frowned, drawing his sword again with one hand while wrapping the other around Ninian's hand, giving her a squeeze of comfort. "You don't know the circumstances!" he said to the three riders. "You won't let me explain my actions, so you fail to understand—"

"We don't," the rider agreed solemnly. "But that matters not. We have our orders. The Mad Dog wishes to dispose of you personally, but not if I don't, first!" He jerked his lance off his saddle, yanking on the wyvern's reigns and diving towards the two.

Eliwood shoved Ninian away from the impending fight, not glancing at the maiden as she stumbled backwards. He instead focused on the wyvern rider, lunging forward with his fierce battle cry. Killing was wrong, but he couldn't let anyone be killed. Elibe as a whole mattered more than a couple of corrupted lives, and that was final.

Steel bit flesh as the rider's spear pierced Eliwood in his already-wounded shoulder, snapping bones and muscles, cutting straight through his back and cape in a explosion of bright red. The swordsman screamed in agony, nearly dropping his sword to the blood-stained ground. Careless anger had blinded him, and now he was unable to move his left arm.

"Lord Eliwood!" Ninian's shrill outcry distracted the Pheraean from the flaming pain, reminding him why he had just run into combat. A growl rumbling in his throat, he reached up, curling his blood-slicked fingers around the lance shaft, and twisting until it snapped.

The wyvern rider opened his mouth to express his shock, but the flame-haired lord thrust forward, piercing the chest of the Bernite and sending him tumbling to the ground, dead, his jaw and eyes still parted in surprise.

There was no time to celebrate his victory. "You…you bastard!" screeched one of the now-deceased rider's companions. "You killed the captain! Fuck Master Linus, I'll slaughter you!" The second rider dove towards Eliwood, his lance clearly sharper and stronger-built. There wasn't a way it would break by mere muscular strength.

The Lycian made a grab for his sword, his fingers scrabbling to get a grip on the slimy hilt. The iron had embedded itself in the man's armor, and was proving to be a hassle to retrieve. It took precious seconds to pull it free, and by then it was too late.

"ELIWOOD!" Ninian screamed, unable to do anything but watch in horror as the wyvern's lance impaled the swordsman through his exposed abdomen, the momentum throwing him into the air with a yelp that was lost on the wind. He crashed down on the grass thirty feet away with a sickening crunch, rolled onto his back, and then lay still.

The dancer shrieked in terror, running forward to reach the man's side. She could hear the cackling laughter of the wyvern rider, hovering over the plains to enjoy the scene of sick triumph. She tuned it out; she could extract revenge later. For now, the only thing that mattered was bleeding and broken on the ground.

She collapsed to her knees next to Eliwood, leaning over his unmoving figure hesitantly. The wooden shaft of the spear protruded from his stomach, soaked in his own blood and taunting her with the glistening crest of the Black Fang. She tore her eyes away from the lance and to the wound itself. The puncture was dark, gleaming in the misty afternoon the black and red of broken flesh. His blue tunic was soaked purple and his cape pooled around him, collecting blood that seeped through the poppy-colored fabric and to the earth below. His left arm hung awkwardly at his side, and it did not take long for Ninian to realize both the bones in his forearm had shattered on impact. "El…Eliwood…" She cupped his face in her hands, wiping away blood that trickled out of his slightly parted lips and down his chin.

A gasp shuttered through his body, racking his broken frame. "…Ah…" he gurgled, his voice laced with agony. "…Ni…Nin…" He blinked slowly, his blue eyes glazed over and the pupils dilated. "…Ow…"

"Don't move," she whispered pleadingly, caressing his cheek, feeling the ridges of old scars and the tears of new cuts. "Stay awake…but don't move…you'll…oh god, Lord Eliwood…" She brushed a strand of hair from his brow, slicking it back with the blood that covered his features. "This is my fault."

"As if." Eliwood's good arm crept up beneath him, and with a sharp inhale that tasted of copper, he sat up. His arm quickly gave way, but Ninian reached out, steadying the wounded man. "It's…not your fault…" he wheezed. "Where…is that b-bastard…?"

He was shaking and bleeding, but the cloudiness of his gaze had already disappeared, leaving only that intense cerulean stare, save the warm kindness it normally bore. Ninian swallowed. "Please…don't…"

"He's still alive!" Both youths looked up at the wyvern rider, who scowled back at them. "God dammit. He's even conscious! And he has my spear, the jerk!"

Ninian turned, spreading her arms to shield Eliwood. "If you want to kill him," she snapped, "You'll have to kill me first!"

"Ninian!" Eliwood grabbed her shoulder, his eyes wide. "Stay b-back; let me…deal with…him…" The dancer shrunk away slightly as he used her arm as a brace, stumbling back to his feet despite the weapon that punctured his gut. He glared at the rider, quaking with blood loss and unspeakable fury. "C-come and g-get me…coward…"

The wyvern rider obliged, swooping down again to attack, drawing a worn and weaker lance off his belt. Eliwood drew his spare sword, barely able to keep his grip on the leather-covered hilt, let alone raise it to defend himself. But somehow, he did. The sweet flavor of Ninian's lips, the silky curtain of her hair, her unmarked skin and perfect face…he couldn't lose. He wanted that again, and he would fight for it until he was beyond dead.

He lurched forward, stabbing the blade forward as the rider made a swipe at him. The lance grazed his head, cutting the skin, but by some pure stroke of luck, his blade struck the man in the heart and knocked him backwards, to die with his fallen companion.

"Eliwood!" Ninian caught the Pheraean before he collapsed to the ground, feeling his breath hot and uneven against the crook of her neck. "Please, hold on! I'll find Lucius or Priscilla, and they can help…please, don't die!"

He turned slightly, so he didn't cough his lung-full of blood over the beautiful woman. "I…won't…d-die…" he rasped. "I…ha…ve…to a…venge…" He slumped, and Ninian tightened her grip him before he could fall back onto the ground.

The dancer shook his shoulders desperately. "No! Eliwood! Eliwood!" She clenched her teeth, fear distorting her face. "Please, Eliwood! Wake up! WAKE UP!" He had slipped from the aware world, and already Ninian could feel his pulse fluctuating. And there was still a third wyvern rider, who was preparing to finish both teenagers off.

She lowered him back to the ground, resting his bloodied head in her lap. "D-dammit…" she whispered. "This is my fault…" Her crimson gaze turned from his face to the lance still protruding from his stomach. She winced, reaching out and curling her quavering fingers around the bloody spear shaft.

"Don't do that!" Ninian turned sharply as the third wyvern rider fell to the ground, a knife in his throat and blood pouring down his front. Standing not fifteen feet away was the assassin Jaffar, whom the dancer had almost forgotten about. "…If you value his life, leave the spear in. Otherwise he'll bleed to death."

She swallowed roughly. "Then…tell me, please, what do I do?!" She let her hand fall away from the lance, the blood sticking to her skin uncomfortably. "I can't let him die!"

"You love him, don't you?" Hearing the words, so calmly spoken from the killer's mouth, made Ninian freeze. "The two called Hector and Lyn are dealing with reinforcements as they come. Stay here." Before the dancer could speak again, the man was gone, running at nearly inhuman speeds that gave the impression of simply disappearing.

Ninian looked back down into Eliwood's face, the skin a ghostly white beneath the dark stains of blood. She pulled her sleeve over her hand, before gently using it as a cloth to wipe away the crimson smears. He was still handsome, even on the verge of death, and the blood only muddled the perfection.

Distantly, she could hear the sounds of a horse, galloping urgently towards their location. She didn't need to look up to know it was Priscilla, sent over to heal the dying lord. Ninian bowed her head, touching her forehead to Eliwood's, sighing gently.

"Of course I love him," she whispered as the Valkyrie approached, staff in hand. "He's my savior… And he loves me, too."

-

**Wow, for some reason, I was all 'OMG ELI AND NINI ;D!!!' and then I got writer's block. CURSES. So it started out nice and pretty and romance-y (which is like, shocking, because I fail at romance) then it got really violent, then it ended like, 'wtf?'**

**Well, let me explain myself: This actually sorta not really but it did happen to me. I supported Eli and Ninian, unaware that he had only half of his HP. In the range of three stupid wyvern knights. Actually, he got hit by the first two, was reduced to 1 HP, then he dodged the third and killed him. But when you think about it, that doesn't really make sense. So Jaffy killed the third one. BUT IT WAS RIGHT AFTER I A-SUPPORTED THEM D:!!!**

**So that's basically it. It's a really bad story, I'm too lazy to improve it, and now I'm going to go work on Memories.**

**Please review and give helpful critique? It make me a happy panda ;O**

**-Muse**

**PS I know Jaffar was OoC. WHATEBUR. **


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